Violet #2
Jackie’s lips were pursed again. ‘Well, I was only concerned about my patient,’ she said, her tone now a little self-righteous.
Violet was tempted to say, so was I , but bit back the retort.
‘Just to be clear,’ she said, unwilling to capitulate completely, ‘I didn’t think that writing him up for a diuretic was the right option, and I still don’t.
But I was wrong to be so dismissive of your suggestion– and to make you feel as though maybe you couldn’t approach me with similar concerns in future.
’ Was this an appropriate phrase? Had she got the tone right?
She watched Jackie’s face carefully for clues.
Jackie was evidently mulling it over. ‘Yes– I mean you do have a bit of an intimidating reputation,’ she said eventually.
‘Really?’ Violet was astonished to hear this. ‘I’d assumed it was obvious to most people I was hopelessly out of my depth.’
Jackie laughed. ‘Well, yes, that as well. It’s how most of you start off though, isn’t it.
Straight from medical school, horrific imposter syndrome and terrified that someone’s going to call you out on everything you don’t know.
’ She smiled suddenly and her face changed.
‘Whereas most of the nursing team have seen this all before and know exactly how you’re feeling. We usually just want to help.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said Violet seriously.
‘It would be useful,’ said Jackie, ‘if more foundation doctors acted the way you are now. Being honest with your colleagues. Admitting when you’re out of your depth and apologising if you’ve been a bit– heavy-handed ?’
Violet wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was beginning to feel as though she’d walked into another telling-off. But then Jackie’s expression changed again– really, it was exhausting keeping up with the twists and turns of people’s thoughts during a single conversation.
‘To be honest though,’ Jackie said, ‘you were absolutely right about the diuretic. I asked the senior staff nurse about it and she said it would have been a disaster with his kidney function as it was.’
Violet nodded, feeling vindicated but also relieved that the conversation appeared to still be going in the right direction.
‘Did she say it in a slightly nicer way than I did?’ she asked, curious as to how this senior staff nurse had managed to voice the same concerns without causing offence, resentment or umbrage.
Jackie chuckled. ‘A bit, yeah. Anyway…’ Her face broke into a wide smile and she reached out and patted Violet on the arm. ‘Thank you for apologising,’ she said. ‘It takes balls to do that.’
‘Breasts and a cervix actually,’ said Violet. ‘The ones with balls seem to be pretty bad at apologising for anything.’
Jackie hooted with laughter at that. ‘You are a funny one, Dr Winters,’ she said, wiping her eyes.
‘It’s Violet,’ said Violet. ‘And yes, I’ve been told that before. But it’s not usually meant in a good way.’
One of the call alert buzzers went off and they both turned to look down the ward. ‘Ah, it’s Mr Pelosi in bed seven,’ said Jackie. ‘I’d better go– it’ll be his catheter. He keeps worrying it’s blocked.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said Violet. ‘Might reassure him if two of us check it at the same time.’
‘Yes, you’re right. It probably would.’ Jackie pulled a box of gloves across the desk and drew out a pair for each of them. ‘Thanks, Violet.’ She smiled. ‘That would be a big help.’
* * *
An hour or so later Violet was down in the medical admissions unit clerking in a forty-five-year-old with chest pain.
The man did not appear to be having a heart attack, certainly his cardiac trace and initial blood tests were fine, but his history had highlighted some early warning signs.
Violet was sat at the desk writing up his notes and trying to work out how to advise him to lose some weight, cut down on his drinking and get some exercise, without causing massive offence.
Simon, the charge nurse (whose name she had already used at least four times to demonstrate that she knew who he was), had just pulled up a seat alongside her and yawned like a bear waking up from hibernation. He glanced over at Violet’s notes.
‘Is that the chest pain in bed ten?’ he asked.
Violet nodded as she read back through her notes. Satisfied, she placed them down on the table.
‘Is there anybody else you want me to see, Simon– while I’m here? Anyone you’re worried about?’ She had found during the course of the week that volunteering to see patients before you were asked created a lot of goodwill without actually increasing the number of jobs generated.
Simon consulted his list with a thoughtful expression. ‘There is an abdominal pain in bed twelve,’ he said. ‘But I think he should have been a surgical admission. They’re coming down to have a look at him in a moment… Oh! No, here he is– the man himself! Don’t worry, Dr Winters, Mr Snell’s here.’
‘Violet!’ Barney’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘How’s your shift going?’
‘Fine thanks,’ she said. ‘It all seems to be fairly qu?—’
‘Don’t say it!’ said Simon. ‘Never say the Q-word in a hospital.’ But it was too late. Violet’s crash bleep suddenly started crackling static and they all jumped. ‘Cardiac arrest. Ward ten. Cardiac arrest. Ward ten.’
Simon grimaced. ‘Guess that’s you off then,’ he said. ‘Bloody long way from here, ward ten…’ But Violet had already gone, sprinting out of the MAU as if her life depended on it. Ward ten was Mr Zeller’s ward. And she had a horrible feeling that her night was about to get a lot worse.